The Family Affair: Johns Questions
by Jason Layton
Summary: After the events of The Family Affair, John Watson has some follow up questions for Lucille.


After 'the family affair' case I decided to visit Professor Lucille Steadman at her home in Kensington. My friend and erstwhile colleague Sherlock Holmes had left the country the day before following a case I couldn't hope to understand and so I took my chance. I had been in regular contact with Lucille since finding out about her and Holmes's son Simon, and despite a feeling of disquiet I always received from her, an understanding had arisen between us. On her insistence not his I had only mentioned her long secret marriage to Holmes to two other people, one my 'therapist' Ella Thompson and my brother Harry. Holmes just didn't seem very concerned who knew his private business but Lucille seemed convinced that Simon might be in danger from the 'nutters' who surrounded Holmes, and I was happy to keep my part in this masque. She always insisted I called her Lucille, whereas Holmes would deviate between calling her Lucy, Professor Steadman and occasionally if he was particularly irked 'that bloody woman'. My visit this day was to ask her about her early adventures with Holmes, I wanted to understand their dysfunctional relationship, and also to help me keep an eye out for any signs of addictive behavior in my friend.

When I arrived at Brunswick Gardens I was relieved to see Lucille's car parked outside. Although I had arranged to visit her, like her husband Lucille is prone to changing her plans at the last moment, finding something more interesting to do, and not informing anyone of their intentions. As I walked up her red tiled steps, I was reminded of the morning I had come here with Holmes, with the police tape wrapped around the doorway, and the blood still spilt on the top step. I rang the doorbell and a vaguely familiar face answered the door. The young man in front of me had visited our home in Baker Street some weeks earlier in the wake of the double murders. Holmes had insisted on vetting Lucille's new staff himself and for a short while our lounge had been filled with CV's, CRB checks and illegally obtained schools records. This particular lad I remembered was called Tom, employed as a general dogsbody, not particularly intelligent but with a clean record.

'Dr Watson' Tom beamed, 'Professor Steadman is waiting for you in her study.'

I was shown through to her little garden facing office, and I was struck by a sudden difference between herself and her husband. Our flat was filled with Holmes's detritus, half finished experiments, half read reports, screwed up paper and oddments I didn't like thinking about, seemed to collect around him. Lucille's room was neat and tidy with labeled filing cabinets and neat arch level files on shelves. Her tidy mahogany desk was exactly in the middle of the room, with 2 comfy chairs on either side. Lucille was sitting behind one of them.

'How did you ever live with him?' I asked without really thinking.

'I didn't, not really' she replied laughing, and gesturing a chair opposite herself. 'It's lovely to see you John' she said flashing me with her shark smile. I am always struck by that smile, I know she doesn't save it for me, I've seen her use it on many unsuspecting men, but she never uses on Holmes. He is completely oblivious to her charms; she is petite, with dark blonde hair and the darkest of blue eyes. She may not be classically beautiful, but when she looks at you with those eyes, those dangerous eyes the world melts away. I am a fool but I always think that if it were I instead of Holmes married to this beguiling creature I wouldn't hide her away like a shameful secret.

She offered me tea which I gratefully accepted, and settled myself in my chair. I had warned her why I was coming, and unlike my friend she was happy to talk me through her memories of the younger Holmes.

'Do you want chronological order John?' she asked sipping her tea, 'or would you prefer to ask questions and I will try my best to answer them.'

I had jotted some questions down in a notepad, and so I thought it easier if we worked that way. Ella had given me some tips on interviewing a reluctant person, not because she thought this backwards session would help me with my own issues, but because I believe she is genuinely interested in Sherlock Holmes.

'If it's alright by you I have a series of questions, but of course you can answer them in anyway you wish' I assured pleased with the professional psychiatrist voice I had used, she just laughed at me.

'Ok Dr Watson, fire away'.

I decided to start with the most personal question first, we both knew it was coming, and I thought getting it out of the way might help.

'Are you and Holmes still sleeping together?'

She laughed for a fully minute, first a shocked gasp, then hard laughing finally ending with quite child like giggles.

'You don't mess around do you John?' She finally told me, I smiled at her and she continued. 'I assume you are asking me about my sex life with my husband, as you have been present twice while we have actually shared a bed. The answer is occasionally, sometimes. I will tell you the truth shall I? The night you stayed at my father's house, we made love. I know your going to be shocked at me calling it that, Sherlock is probably incapable of love, certainly the only people he has ever come close to loving in my knowledge are you and Simon. However what else can I call it, we knew of course that Nelly had committed the murders, and Sherlock had the idea of making her plan come to fruition. When he returned from you in the library he was so cold, and happy that he had solved my case. I put Simon to bed in one of the spare rooms, thinking he was going to talk all night. However when I returned to our room he was stripping off his soaking pyjamas, he explained his plan for the next morning, and suggested that we should make the pretence more believable. It was wonderful and loving and it's probably a good job that we are both very good actors because that way we could both make believe it was real. Since then our sex life as it has always been has been one of sporadic experimentation. I believe everyone needs to release stress and tension, and I believe that Sherlock like me would prefer that it be done with someone he knows and trusts. He prefers that when the deed is over he can either stay or leave as his needs require.'

I was taken aback by her bluntness, almost male dismissal of her sex life. She seemed not to care about my friend's savage treatment of her; in fact she seemed to accept it. I had once been present during a frank discussion between the two about the possibility of her taking a lover. I had felt Holmes was not concerned about his wife sleeping with other men, but that she hadn't consulted him when she was considering it. I now realized in this most erratic of marriages that this would constitute infidelity, where if she had in fact taken the lover Holmes would have seen that as justified and correct. I also realized sitting there in her bright neat room that their minds were so chaotic, and both in their twenties, there was a real a frightening possibility of them conceiving another child.

I thanked her for her honesty, I had received a real insight into Holmes mind, possibly more disturbing than I would have liked, but I was closer to understanding him. Lucille was slightly red in the face but when I asked her if she was ready to continue she nodded her assent.

'When was the last time you got high together?'

'A week and a half ago' she said smiling at me, she looked neither concerned nor ashamed.

I'll admit I was both, angry as well. They were adults, parents and they were sneaking around like teenagers. Equally it wasn't that long since our home had been searched for drugs. I remembered when it must have been; Sherlock was bored as normal, had wrecked the living room with a daft experiment and gone off in a huff. He'd arrived back 3 days later like nothing had happened.

'What are you taking, how often, where, and where do you get it from?' she heard the anger in my voice, and fixed me with those dark eyes again.

'John, we're not children' she spoke gently 'he's not a teenager, you can't ground Sherlock if he does things you don't like. If you really want to know I'll tell you, but you won't stop him. If he doesn't get high with me, it will be with someone else. Two weeks ago he came to me, you'd had an argument and he was in a reckless angry mood. Simon was at a friend's house so he asked me to come with him; we walked for miles into the darkest seediest areas Sherlock knows. Places no sane person would ever venture, he never buys from those boho street vendors, and he never buys from the suited city boys. Normally he'll buy heroin from the Chinese whores; he appreciates their honesty. If he's in a coke mood he'll go to the bars off the Tottenham Court Road, where it's available in all its forms like an old fashioned sweet shop. He rarely touches hash any more but I have my own supply here if he wants it. Everything else he seems to think beneath him, unless he's experimenting then he'll buy anything from anyone.

'Two weeks ago?' I asked cautiously

'He was in an experimental mood, he knows a man who has a clean, pure opium supply, we went to see him, then we spent some time mixing hash and brown in infusion. It was an enjoyable few hours. We went to an exclusive party as we came down, the sort where names are not important and you never tell what you saw. He knows the oddest people you know? I don't know how regularly he gets high, I don't know what he takes, where he gets it or what he does for it, and you live with him. I can only speak for myself, he is a bad influence on me, and I'll take anything he suggests, whenever he suggests. We don't get stoned like we once did, he doesn't see me and get high we are not addicts as we were, but we enjoy a recreational use together in our darker moments.

Again she didn't lie to me; she was blunt and honest. This time however Lucille had worried me, she described Holmes as a recreational user, but to my mind he was clearly still an addict. As I was mulling over this she got up from her seat and walked to her bookshelves, she took down a box file, which I now saw had the name Sherlock Holmes written on it. She brought it back to the desk and opened it in front of me.

'This is all the stuff I have of Sherlock's.' she started rifling through the box, found a small card and handed it to me. It was a methadone prescription card in Holmes name. 'Take it if you're worried'.

We took a break at this point, Lucille offered me a glass of wine, I accepted and as she went off to the kitchen I searched through her Sherlock Holmes folder. She had their American marriage certificate, his full birth certificate, an out of date passport, his degree and some pictures. She also had hundreds of letters, ciphers and notes from him. When Lucille came back in she was carrying a bottle of Moet and Chandon and two champagne glasses.

'What can I say John?' she asked giggling, 'I don't have any wine but this!'

I laughed back, took the champagne bottle off her and opened it. We settled back down, the folder still open between us.

'What is next John?' she asked drinking deeply from her glass.

'Holmes say's you're an accomplished burglar, how why? What have you done?'

Again she laughed, she was proud Holmes had described her as accomplished. I thought she might have slapped me, I was expecting her champagne to be thrown at me instead, and she rummaged in her file again. She picked up a picture of herself nearly 9 years earlier and passed it to me, her younger self was draped with climbing ropes.

'That picture was taken while we were still at Cambridge, Sherlock had wanted to prove that an undergraduate had broken into his own halls of residence, 'stolen' his own things and claimed off the insurance. Sherlock decided I was going to learn to climb then he would teach me how to jimmy a window. I do not know how he learnt to do such things, but all I brought to the table was the ability to hang upside down from a high building without a safety rope, the breaking in is all him.'

I was both impressed and disappointed. I had expected more from her, and truthfully I believe there is more. Sherlock has broken into buildings with me, but I had assumed she'd taught him. Lucille blames Sherlock for this criminal trait.

My next question came at her quickly; 'do you want Holmes back?'

'No, John he's yours' she told me. 'I have never really wanted him, whatever Nelly thought, he's my best friend, I would be heartbroken if he stopped coming to me for advice, or help, or whatever. However I don't imagine he will ever be my husband in the classic sense of the word.'

'Now John I have a question for you' she suddenly took my hand and stared deep into my eyes that look which once Holmes had walked in on made my blood freeze. 'Will you promise me something John?' she asked me.

'Anything' I whispered not knowing why I'd said that.

'When he gets himself killed, when Moriarty catches up with him, when this all ends in blood. Tell me, come and find me, tell me first.' I looked at her of course I would her eyes were filling with tears I'd never believed possible. 'Tell me first John, don't let me hear through the police, or Mycroft or goodness preserve not know. My son would need to know, I'd need to know.'

I promised her this, I promised her that I would always be her friend, and Simons, I swore that whatever happened she would have no reason to doubt me.

That's when I left, after hours of drinking talking and honesty I left Brunswick Gardens for Baker Street. Hours later I was still musing on the strange woman in the house, the wife and mother who had never asked where her husband was, had kept his things safe in a shrine, and had lied to me repeatedly throughout.


End file.
